


the inherent tenderness of being held

by Anonymous



Category: Julius Caesar - Shakespeare
Genre: Cuddles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Support, F/F, Fluff, Kissing, Tenderness, hey it’s me ya boi back at it again, i cannot deny it any longer this one is for ms, just. overall cute, these other ones were 4 my friend but this one?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:15:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24163462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: a conversation about love and care, at dusk.
Relationships: Calpurnia Pisonis/Porcia Catonis
Kudos: 4
Collections: Anonymous





	the inherent tenderness of being held

**Author's Note:**

> what am i doing with my life

Calpurnia’s hands trace through Portia’s heavy, silky curls. The comb follows soon after. Calpurnia insists on this every time Portia returns to her -  _ let me brush your hair, my Portia, you know I love it so -  _ and Portia’s never had any reason to deny her. It’s nice, she must admit, to have someone run their fingers through her hair, tease out the knots with care, and put it in two loose braids to keep it out of her face. 

Calpurnia finishes with a kiss to Portia’s temple, leaving the comb on a window ledge as she drapes her arms around Portia’s waist. Portia leans back, bracing herself again Calpurnia’s shoulder, and taking in the waning sunlight that warms her face. Calpurnia kisses the crown of her head. 

_ It is strange _ , Portia thinks, as Calpurnia continues her affections and wraps Portia in tighter,  _ to be attended like this _ . 

Brutus - her and Brutus hit the same note, match strength and affection to each other. They love each other quite a lot, but there would never be anything like  _ this _ , one tending to the other for a day, a few days, with little to no return. The love is  _ different _ , if Portia can say that love takes many forms. 

“Are we in love?” Portia poses this question every time they are together. She cannot let it slip her mind - is what she feels for Calpurnia love? Can she love Brutus, too, can she love the both of them, or is her heart too small to fit so much?

“You tell me,” Calpurnia replies, kissing Portia’s cheek. 

“If I knew, I wouldn’t have to ask. Why are you so kind to me?” Portia rubs her thumbs over the back of Calpurnia’s hands. 

Calpurnia’s head settles into Portia’s shoulder. “Because,” she starts, punctuating it with a kiss to Portia’s jaw, “I love you. And I fear that you do not tend to yourself as much as you should.”

Portia abruptly changes position, flipping herself around, pressing her face into Calpurnia’s neck, wrapping her arms around her ribs and squeezing tightly. Calpurnia smells of flowers, of course she does, and every trembling inhale brings the fragrance through her lungs. Calpurnia’s quiet  _ oh!  _ turns to gentle strokes down Portia’s back, soothing her with the palm of her hand. Portia curls up under her touch, pulling herself in. 

“Oh, my Portia,” Calpurnia breathes. 

It is quiet for a long time, just a bubble of breathing and heartbeats and the occasional shift of fabric. Portia watches the shadows creep down Calpurnia’s arm. 

It is still wordless when they stand and move to Calpurnia’s bed. 

Calpurnia reaches to pull Portia in, but Portia takes her hands in hers instead. She kisses the knuckles of both hands before finally falling to Calpurnia’s lips. Calpurnia cups her head in her hands, pulling herself into the kiss. 

It’s warm, and sweet, and if Portia knew she could simply  _ do  _ this - it was always like Calpurnia knew exactly what to do, like she had some secret text that Portia had never seen, and Portia had assumed she’d do it completely wrong - she’d have tried a lot sooner. She unclasps her hands and uses them to wrap Calpurnia in the same embrace Portia’s been taken in these last few nights. 

It is warm and sweet and Portia feels like a fool for not trying this earlier. Calpurnia smiles at her, resting her head on Portia’s chest and exhaling. 

Portia’s hands float up to Calpurnia’s elaborate hairstyle, and she prods with a gentle ‘ _ may I? _ ’. Calpurnia nods. It takes some doing, but she undoes the tight piles of hair, and it falls down in chunks to rest at her shoulders and across the pillows. Portia runs her fingers through it - it’s soft, and even in the dark she can see its shine. It feels so lovely against her hands.

“Goodnight,” Portia murmurs, and Calpurnia returns the sentiment with a kiss to Portia’s collarbone. 

Tomorrow, she will comb Calpurnia’s hair. 


End file.
